Jerome entered his room, feeling invigorated and ready to tackle a mental challenge. He had a theory that trained assassins, like Rihal, were capable of masking their essence with mental energy. If he could learn how to do the same, it would give him an edge in battles.
Rihal had debunked his previous theory of using the mental barrier or a replica to mask his essence so he figured he’d go for the next best thing—mental energy.
Upon entering his room, Jerome noticed that everything had been repaired and replaced after the previous night's damage.
Well, almost everything…
Kilian hadn’t replaced his door, leaving his room exposed like a monster with a gaping mouth, devouring air.
Undeterred, he sat down cross-legged and began to cycle, absorbing vast amounts of world essence with each rotation of his core, cycling at an incredible speed. After a long while, he achieved a state of perfect calm and summoned a cocoon of pure mental energy, enveloping his body in an invisible shield.
He started to emit pulses of essence from his core, causing the temperature in the room to rise, and beads of sweat to form on his forehead. Not satisfied with the outcome, Jerome increased the output of his mental energy and expanded the diameter of the cocoon. However, this only served to further heat up his room.
He persisted in his efforts until the early hours of the morning, only managing to give himself a mental pat on the back for not burning the place down. Although he had yet to achieve his goal, he was determined to master the technique of masking his essence as he cycled.
~~~
“Ignite your blue flame and throw it at the target,” Rihal commanded as he paced behind Jerome observing his every move.
He had found a new training ground for Jerome, one that would have cost him dearly had the Sovereign not intervened. But he was quite angry today. His disciple didn’t follow his instructions and he could sense his weariness. Jerome had overused his mental energy and this would influence his training today.
They were in an open arena surrounded by boulders, some of which were carved into seats. The soil on the ground had witnessed a lot of fights and Jerome could smell the blood, sweat, and tears that had mixed with the soil as he scrutinized his surroundings.
He took a deep breath, ignited a blue flame on his palm, and threw it at a boulder in the middle of the training ground. Or at least he tried to. The flame didn’t leave his palm. He tried again, and then again, but the flame only changed shape as it breezed through the air on his palm. He could feel that the core of the flame was stuck to his palm. Nothing else happened and he felt ridiculous.
“The flame is a product of your essence. Hence, you can’t just throw it like a physical material that’s not a part of you,” Rihal explained.
“How do I throw it, then?”
“With mental energy,” Rihal said as he came to stand beside Jerome, his voice cold and unfeeling, “A little mental energy to shoot it at your proposed target. This means you don’t need the throwing motion to increase momentum, you just take aim, use your mental energy to pull it like a bow…and shoot,”
Use my mental energy as a bow. “Are you angry at me Rihal?” Jerome asked. He’d felt his mentor was a bit distant this morning. Was it because I went ahead and trained in essence masking—oh, that’s a cool name, he thought.
Rihal glanced his way, “Do you have any idea how weak your mental energy is right now?” he said. Rihal wasn’t angry because Jerome had overused his mental energy. He was angry because Jerome didn’t listen to him, he just went ahead and did whatever it was he put his mind to.
Yep, he’s definitely angry coz of the essence masking thing, Jerome thought and looked away with an embarrassed expression on his face.
“I told you not to juggle multiple things but to concentrate on one to perfection. Why didn’t you listen to me?” Rihal asked, not to ask but to state a fact: Jerome was being an unfilial disciple.
“I was just a bit curious,” Jerome admitted.
“Well, you won’t be able to perform at your best thanks to your curiosity,” Rihal pointed out, “Go ahead and give it a try. And no stopping until you can shoot the flame at least ten paces away,”
“Ten paces, that should be easy,” Jerome said excitedly, ready to crush the goal that was set.
~~~
Castle Alvric, Farryn. Secret Chamber of the Alvric Council.
“I need to see the Ancient One, Filip,” Nolan Alvric said as he walked into the Council room. The other Elders were already waiting for him, having received his message early that morning.
“And what might this be about, Patriarch?” the 1st Elder of the Alvric clan asked. Whatever would lead Nolan Alvric to call for a meeting so early after a banquet at the Royal Estate must truly be important.
“Vorthe has a new Saint, well I don’t know if he just advanced, I only know he’s a lot more powerful than ours,” Nolan said as he sat down in his high-backed chair on the raised dais, only noticing the deathly silence that engulfed the room a moment later.
Every Elder had their jaw hanging in shock, unable to process what he just said completely. Filip Alvric was the first to recover, “They mock us!” He said, his face twisted in a combination of fury and fear.
“Aye. It came as much a surprise to me and every other Head of the other Great families. Well…” the Patriarch said contemplatively.
The other Elders looked at him, waiting for him to continue. The tension in the air was so thick, every one of the Elders was grasping at the information he was yet to release with desperation.
“Well?” Fredrik Alvric, the 2nd Elder blurted out. He couldn’t stand the tension of not knowing more. The more information they had the better. Because if Vorthe knew what they were planning, they could execute them all on the grounds of conspiring against the throne.
“It seems Arwen Itakar was not surprised at the sight of a new Saint in the Royal family, which means we know who not to join forces with when the time is ripe for it,” Nolan Alvric continued.
“What was he like, this…Saint of the Royal family?” Anders Alvric, the 4th Elder, asked curiously. He was the youngest Sage in the room, and as such he had never met the Ancient One, the Alvrics' own Saint Realm expert.
“Well, he’s young and vibrant, compared to the Ancient One. Thorlin Vorthe, he’s named,” the Patriarch said, and exhaled loudly. Nolan Alvric seemed to age a hundred years at that moment. The weight and pressure of the oath he swore to break his family free from Vorthe’s leash weighed down on him almost visibly.
“Being in close proximity with him was far different from being with the Ancient One,” he continued, “You know how it feels being around the Ancient One, no?” he glanced at the Elders and some of them nodded.
“I don’t know how it feels since I’ve…” Anders Alvric almost stuttered out and everyone turned to Eskan to explain. The 3rd Elder seemed to catch himself as he noticed everyone was looking at him.
“Oh, ahem. It feels like being a Sprout in the presence of a Sage, hmm,” Eskan Alvric explained, caressing his red-brown beard.
“But it is not the same with this Saint,” Nolan Alvric, the Patriarch took over. “When he mounted the stage to announce the opening of Terra Praeta—”
“They’re opening Terra Praeta?!” both the 1st and 2nd Elders shot to their feet at that.
“Aye, but allow me the leeway to speak,” Nolan said, gesturing to them to sit down. “When he mounted the stage and unveiled his aura, it was controlled. There were lots of Sprouts and Spirit Realm artists but none of them felt it. The level of control it’ll take to pull that off!”
“He has complete control over the latent power of his Spirit!” the 1st Elder, Filip Alvric said. “We have to stop the expedition. This is not someone we want to cross!”
“Now hold on, Filip,” the Patriarch tried to take back control of the discussion. “What we need to do is hear from the Ancient One.”
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Filip Alvric was beginning to get frustrated by this. “The Ancient One would not leave his meditation to see you, Nolan. He only needs to advance to Transcendence and then all our problems would be solved, no?”
If the clan knew our far gone their Ancient One was, they’d lose faith in the Alvric. If the Patriarch knew, he’d start exercising his powers knowing there’s no one to hold him accountable. At which point, he the 1st Elder would lose his leverage over the council. Worse if the outside world found out…Filip didn’t even want to think of the repercussion of that.
“Then, I say we stay on track, and finish the course we started,” Nolan Avric declared. “What say the council?”
“Aye,” The 2nd Elder said, as did the 3rd and 4th.
“I think this is a mistake, Nolan,” Filip Alvric said gravely, he placed both hands on the table to tap on it. “Everything we’ve managed to build here may come crumbling down with just one mistake. Think on this carefully before going against the Royals.”
The council chamber went silent for a few more breaths of time as tension hung in the air.
Nolan Alvric exhaled audibly before saying, “I swore an oath, Filip, and I would see it through. When do the men begin to arrive, Eskan?”
“In ten days, Patriarch,” Eskan said.
“Split them up, and take them around Farryn,” Nolan Alvric said. “We begin searching for Vorthe’s monster as soon as they arrive the mountain range.”
~~~
The sun was already high in the sky and Jerome was down on one knee. He was sweating profusely…and breathing hard. The flame on his palm was also tinier than when he started. Albeit, he hadn’t been able to ‘shoot’ the flame.
You should have told me this was a lot harder than it sounds, he complained in frustration, but unwilling to give up he kept at it. In theory, using his mental energy like a bow to pull the flame and release it was easy to imagine, but putting it to work was a different matter altogether.
“Ready to give up yet?” Rihal stood over him smiling.
Jerome scowled at him and looked away, not ready to admit defeat. Rihal only chuckled and knelt beside him. He had already gotten a kick out of Jerome’s struggles, but his disciple was really stubborn. There was just one problem with what he was doing.
“You should stop,” Rihal said. “There’s only so much strain your mind can take. Any more and you’d injure your soul.”
“You should have said this was a lot harder than it sounds,” Jerome complained.
“And you should have done as I told you,” Rihal retorted, clearly in a good mood.
“Fair enough,” Jerome gave in. “So is there a way to do this or do I just keep groping in the dark here?”
“Go get some rest, Jerome. We’ll resume in the evening,” Rihal said, rising from the ground and lifting Jerome up with his mental energy.
“That’s incredible!” Jerome exclaimed. He could feel the strength and depth of the energy that lifted him. Rihal’s mental energy was so powerful compared to his; like a mountain to an egg.
Rihal chuckled and they both walked toward Kilian’s Palace. That should fire you up a little, he thought.
~~~
“So I pull on the flame with my mental energy—”
“Not the flame. The core of the flame,” Rihal corrected. “When using your perception this way, you ‘will’ it to take hold of a physical entity, not pass through.”
Jerome got up from the ground to face his target from this morning. The sun was down already, and the night was cool. He felt optimistic; his mind was well-rested and felt robust. This time he was going to crush that goal. Ten paces were no big deal. He took a deep breath and kindled a flame on his palm, bathing the environment in blue light.
“Aim,” Rihal said from behind him.
Jerome lifted his palm taking aim. He poured out his mental energy, focusing on taking hold of the flame’s core—it was easier said than done.
“First, use your mental energy to weigh the flame in your hand; get a feel for it. You do that by pushing and pulling on it,” Rihal said from behind.
“Huh,” Jerome muttered in understanding. As he pushed and pulled on the core of the flame, he could feel the weight of the flame—or more like the weight of the essence being burned as fuel, the core. He practiced with it for a few breaths of time, even throwing it a few inches into the air, to his surprise.
“The flame starts to die the moment it leaves you, so you’ve got to shoot it as fast as possible so it could hit the target with as much impact as possible and cause as much damage as possible,” Rihal said, “...ready?”
Jerome nodded, feeling confident. He took aim, compressing and feeding the flame as he pulled on the core, shutting his eyes for maximum concentration. There was no physical reaction; the flame didn’t pull back into his palm and it didn’t change form to give any sign that something was about to happen.
Jerome released his hold on the tiny ball of flame and felt it kick back his arm. It shot out a few feet and sputtered out not far from him.
“Well, that was…”
“Unimpressive,” Rihal completed his words. “Three outta ten,” he looked at Jerome with a mocking smile.
Jerome scowled, his face reddened with embarrassment and…something else. He got ready again, breathing deeply and stabilizing his breath.
“Take your time,” he heard Rihal say. He let all the sound around him fade away, concentrating only on the fireball on his palm, pulling at it with his mental energy woven around its core.
Jerome released the tiny ball of flame and felt the kickback, a lot stronger this time. The target exploded and a breath later, the energy from the explosion reached them like a shockwave, pushing them back a few paces! A shower of disintegrated rocks fell down from the sky afterward.
“Well, that was…” Jerome stated in shock.
“Ten out of ten,” Rihal said with a smile, “Now you learn to fight with it.”
~~~
“You’ve only shot two fireballs, Jerome. Eight more without touching me and you lose,” Rihal said as he ran around the arena.
“That’s easy for you to say. It’s really hard to concentrate and fight at the same time,” Jerome responded as he tried to track Rihal. Worse was that he must not flop, coz the ladies were watching. And he had already missed his target twice.
“Hit him, Jerome, you can do it!” Ash screamed from atop a boulder a few dozen paces away, her excitement palpable. Layla came to watch too, but she wasn’t as enthusiastic as Ash.
Even if he couldn’t hit Rihal, he made up his mind to at least show he had some level of control over fire, and could shoot it however he pleased. He took aim again, trailing Rihal with the flame on his palm.
The flame shot off but only reached six feet away before gravity took it over. “Urgh,” he grumbled, and someone burst out laughing in the audience seats.
Layla, he thought, turning red with embarrassment, but took a deep breath. I shouldn’t be letting this discourage me. Calm down, Jerome, he told himself and took aim again.
Jerome calmed down and let the whole world drop away from him, only focusing on Rihal. Problem was, he was now finding it hard to focus on the fireball. He tried holding both in focus, but it was like trying to read to an audience and write an entirely different article, at the same time.
He persevered, trying to hold both Rihal and the flame in focus. He shot the flame when he thought he saw an opening but the flame sputtered out on his palm, not even shooting out. Jerome raised his head to the sky and roared in frustration. The rest of the night went the same way with no progress, just more six feet shots, or bottom-line failed shots.
“Don’t worry, you’ll get better at it,” Rihal promised as they walked back home. “It’s these little grains that accumulate over time to give your skill a foundation.”
Layla gave him a mocking smile on the way home, which he ignored, and Ash also encouraged him not to give up. Jerome was in his own head, however, wondering where things went wrong.
~~~
“Come on, Jerome!” Ash screamed, “Get him!”
Rihal breezed passed Jerome hitting him in the shoulder and sending him spinning in the air. Jerome shot a fireball at him as he spun through the air, lighting up the night in blue. Rihal dodged to the side but another fireball closed in on him as he side-stepped.
Jerome landed and took off towards Rihal in one smooth motion, shooting three fireballs in a row at him.
Rihal laughed. “Is this all you got, Jerome,” he taunted. He launched himself into the air before the fireballs reached him and exploded in a flurry of essence. Jerome followed, shooting flames from beneath his boots to launch himself into the air and stay afloat—awkwardly.
Bam! Rihal hit him as he zoomed passed and Jerome almost fell out of the sky. He spun around over and over, his brain unable to decide which way was up or down. The nighttime sky didn’t help as well. After much effort, he managed to right himself only to see a smiling Rihal coming at him at full speed.
Jerome used his flames to push himself aside and shot another volley of fireballs toward Rihal.
He fell.
“Damnit!” he groaned. He’d forgotten he was spitting flames out of his legs to stay afloat. Right before he hit the ground he steadied himself and shot upwards again, but Rihal attacked, hitting him with a pulse of pure essence. Jerome hit the ground hard and rolled over on his back, groaning in pain.
“Well, that was fun,” Rihal said as he landed beside his disciple.
“Fun for you, torture for me. I’ve never missed Suzie this much before,” Jerome said, struggling to sit up.
“That’s the point of the training, Jerome,” Rihal said chuckling. “But I’m impressed with your improvement.”
“Woo, ooh!” Ash’s voice could be heard from a distance, and getting closer, she arrived in a flash scattering dirt everywhere. “That was amazing!”
“Thanks, Ash. It seems you’re the only support I have around.” Jerome looked pointedly at the Sprout who followed her. Layla only stuck out her tongue at him.
“How’d you do the flying thing…with the flames coming outta your boots?” Ash asked excitedly.
“Yea, how did you do that?” Layla asked. She was curious herself because Sprouts couldn’t fly and any advantage she could get besides using a flight artifact was a plus for her.
Jerome stood up smiling, feeling good about himself. He had managed not to embarrass himself tonight as he did the previous night.
“It’s hard. Really hard. But it’s about learning to channel essence at a balanced rate,” he said smiling proudly, “and using the precise intensity of mental energy.”
“Intensity?” Ash asked.
“My mother says that too,” Layla said as they walked toward the exit of the arena.
“Hmm. It’s better to imagine it in intensity than in quantity,” Rihal said, “The quantity is the same—you can’t use more mental energy because it’s relative to your mental capacity, not like essence, which you can control in quantity.”
“So, you combine your mental energy.” Jerome said kindling a flame on his palm. “And your essence.” He twisted it into a straight rod. “Making sure to apply as much intensity as possible where necessary.” The rod of flame turned into a sword and he swung it like a physical weapon.
“It’s incredible how you can easily control your essence, though. And it seems you have an endless pool of it,” Layla said, scowling at him.
“Well, I’m awesome, aren’t I?” Jerome responded with a knowing smile.